


teach you a thing, give you two

by taeyomi (buttercream)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Banter, Flirting, M/M, Misunderstandings, dejun just can't read the clues, handjobs, mild rivalry, rushed hook-ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercream/pseuds/taeyomi
Summary: Dejun's horniness and Qian Kun had never been directly related, but things really seem to be on a path to change.
Relationships: Qian Kun/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 12
Kudos: 158





	teach you a thing, give you two

**Author's Note:**

> Before anything else, I'd like to say that I got a pairing and just put the pedal to the metal without any sort of plot or planning. I just wanted to write some Dejun-loving and decided to have fun with this one instead of obsessing and nit-picking every single detail. Major thanks to my bros Gio and DM for sprinting and helping me get this done, Sara for choosing Kun as the designated Dejun-lover, and this wildly known app for fixing most of my embarrassing mistakes 🤪

"Need a boost?"

In lieu of a proper good morning greeting given that it's the first time they cross paths today, Qian Kun decides to be cheeky. He stops by the lounge on his way to who the fuck cares, giving Dejun a double-take instead of moving on with his life. It just so happens that the tin Dejun is trying to reach is on the farthest shelf, and although his insoles add two considerable inches to his height, Dejun still has a hard time with it. Of course, it had to be Qian Kun walking by to witness his struggle.

Letting his weight fall from the tips of his toes to his heels, Dejun turns around, watching as the other one fixes himself a cup of coffee.

"That shelf looked a bit too high for you, Xiao," Kun says, the beginnings of a smirk coloring his face.

The insolence. Dejun clears his throat, refusing to let the warmth on his neck spread up to his cheeks. "Nothing you have you worry about, I'm sure."

Cup of coffee in hand, Kun gazes at him. "If you fall and crack your head open, it is my duty as a member of the Safe Workplace committee to interview you on what caused the accident."

Snorting, Dejun folds his arms on his chest. "That was hardly going to happen."

"But if it did," Kun tilts his head. "I'd still be the one to handle the deal. Offering you a boost simply hinders the chances of me taking on an unprecedented workload. It's preventive."

Dejun squints. Kun smiles.

"Great. Crisis averted. I guess I have you to thank." With the tightest and more unsincere smile he can muster, Dejun walks past Kun, not even bothering to apologize when their shoulders bump. He can feel Kun's eyes on his back until he exits the lounge.

Dejun likes his job. He might not be the best salesman in the company, nor the most committed to his tasks (as seen earlier this week when he and Yangyang from marketing took an extended lunch break to the noodle shop twenty minutes away), but he's been managing to keep himself employed just fine. The only thing he'd change about his workplace, aside from less work and more breaks, is Qian Kun.

If asked to point out when it all began, Dejun would fail to deliver. Maybe his first day of work. Ten, their regional manager, was the one in charge of giving him a very half-assed tour through which he kept checking his phone looking absolutely bored until eventually delegating the task to Kun. At first, Kun seemed friendly and helpful, answering all of Dejun's inquiries and doubts about their workplace. The poking fun and throwing snooty remarks came later, he guesses.

Kun doesn't miss a single chance.

At the elevator in the lobby when Dejun is the last in line to get in and Kun has a little advantage over him: "Morning, Xiao. Pity you won't make it on the next ride. Though, you're small enough to fit in my pocket."

Looking smug after closing a particularly gruesome deal, making sure to take a leisure trip to Dejun's desk: "That's how it's done, Xiao. I could teach you if you asked nicely."

Passing Dejun a note during a sales meeting: _"Who are you even texting this much during a meeting? Don't tell me it's a date."_

Making use of irony when Dejun cut his hair: "Nice haircut."

And the worst of it all is that Dejun hasn't got a single clue of what prompted Kun into his journey of Dejun-loathing. They used to get along, didn't they? They ate lunch together for a while. Yet, something changed, and no matter how hard he dwells on the topic, Dejun remains clueless. He wishes he could say Kun is just generally unpleasant, but the man bakes and shares his food, and whenever he gets himself coffee on the way to the office, he makes sure to get donuts and other snacks for everyone. Kun is an overall favorite, and Dejun just can't understand what makes Kun not want to be nice to him too.

As if dealing with Qian Kun every morning wasn't enough, fate thought that Dejun needed his patience tested on a more personal level. He arrives at work to find the devil himself sitting across from him on the spot that was supposed to be Sicheng's, the quietest, most level-headed person Dejun has ever known, and the best desk mate he could have asked for.

Completely taken by shock and rightfully unable to restrain himself, Dejun drops his messenger back on his chair, not even caring that his jacket is now lying on the floor. "NO!" He blurts as Kun smiles, wiggling fingers in yet another infuriating mock-greeting. "What are you doing here?! Where is Sicheng?!"

"Sicheng called in sick," Kun says matter-of-factly, leaning back onto the chair and linking his fingers over his belly. The tie he's wearing today has an interesting asymmetric pattern, and it matches his white shirt. His hair, Dejun notices, is a little damp, pushed back as if he's run his wet hands through it a couple of times. For some indescribable reason, Dejun thinks he looks handsome. Bastard.

"And why are you not at your desk?" Demanding, Dejun looks around for Ten, having the ridiculous urge to tell on Kun as if they're in elementary school.

With a contented sigh, Kun looks out the conveniently placed window to his left. "I've always wanted to get his spot." He turns to face Dejun, face unreadable. "Stunning view."

On that count, Dejun can't really blame him. He was lucky to get this desk when Ilhoon got fired a couple of months ago. It is a much sought after space, but Kun's been working here longer than either Dejun _or_ Sicheng, it doesn't make sense that he hasn't had the opportunity to make his wishes known.

The man across from Dejun, relentless in his staring, is up to something.

Luckily, Ten chooses that moment to zoom past them. Dejun gives Kun one last dirty look, and darts after their manager.

"Ten, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Ten, albeit shorter than Dejun himself, walks quite fast. "I'm busy, Dejun."

"I'll be quick!" Dejun assures as he powerwalks through the design department, following Ten's path. "Could you perhaps tell Qian Kun to go back to his desk? Sicheng is s- oof!" Ten abruptly comes to a halt, which causes Dejun to collide with his back. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting you to--"

Turning around to quirk an eyebrow up at Dejun, Ten questions, "Tell whomst to go where?"

Having Ten's sharp eyes _that_ focused on him makes Dejun feel kinda self-conscious. He swallows, averting his eyes for a brief moment. "Kun is sitting at Sicheng's spot-- Sicheng, my deskmate. I think he might be planning to distract me in order to sabotage my deals."

Ten's eyes tighten, making him look even more cat-like than he already does. "So you want me to go there and remove him, is that it?"

Dejun blinks. "That might sound a bit pathetic when you say it like that--"

"It is," Ten affirms, and heaves a sigh. "Kun is not planning anything, Dejun, just go back to your desk and make some calls, the lord knows your performance could use a little bit of a push-up."

With that, Ten strides away (Dejun thinks he rolls his eyes as he turns too). Defeated and a little bit humiliated, Dejun casts a glance all the way back to where his desk is located, and sure enough, Kun is looking straight at him, probably watched the whole thing. _Fuck_ , he curses under his breath and eases himself into a pep-talk. _Don't let him rile you up. That's what he wants. Just ignore him._

That's exactly what he tries to do. Dejun doesn't look up whenever he feels Kun's eyes on him, nor rises to the bait when Kun starts this annoying banging of a pencil on the edge of his desk. He only smiles half-heartedly when Kun mocks his first failed sale and doesn't react to Kun's feet bumping against his under the table.

It's all irritating enough to drive him crazy, though, and Dejun is at his limit when Kun calls his name, about twenty minutes before their lunch break.

"Oh my fucking GOD, what IS IT?"

Kun looks at him, lips parted, that ridiculously beautiful face painted with surprise. "Um," Kun looks at the person on Dejun's right, offering them an awkward smile. "I was going to ask if you were having lunch here."

"Why?! So you can find a way to ruin it for me?!"

Weirdly, Kun doesn't reply right away. For a long beat, he just stares at Dejun, mouth still ajar, tufts of his now dry hair fluttering with the cool breeze brought by the air conditioning. It's silent long enough that Dejun feels bad about his outburst, looking down at his computer pretending to check the next client he should be calling.

Thankfully, Kun doesn't say anything else. Instead, he stands up and leaves quietly.

Thankfully.

Except that Dejun can't really focus on work, Kun's surprised face stuck in his memory, and the more Dejun thinks about it, the more his surprise looks like dejection.

He groans, guilt overtaking his entire body as he faceplants on his desk, atop his folded arms.

"By God, you are stupid."

The remark comes from Sooyoung, the woman sitting to his right. Dejun wasn't expecting to hear her voice, and even less to be called stupid by someone other than Kun. Especially because Kun has never used such terms.

"I beg your pardon?"

Sooyoung repeats herself, "I said you are stupid."

Dejun snorts, taken back by the nerves on this woman. "That's a highly inappropriate tone, missy."

"You're highly inappropriate," Sooyoung says as if Dejun is a heavy load too burdensome to carry. They're not even close friends, Dejun would never let a non-friend carry him like a burdensome heavy load. This means that Sooyoung is way out of line here. Either way, she continues to mumble, "Too far up his own ass to look around himself. Will die alone, that one."

"What are you even saying...?" Dejun questions, still a little shaken, confused by what spurred this on.

"You should apologize to Kun," Sooyoung suggests, eyes on her computer screen. "You were really rude to him."

"Like you're being to me right now?"

"Yah, sorry," she shrugs, not sounding apologetic at all. "Kun is a nice guy, you know?"

"To you, maybe," Dejun replies, giving up on the topic to trying and go back to his tasks.

It's hard, though. Kun returns as silently as he left, locks his station, and picks up his jacket, heading out of the office for his lunch break.

It's like something shifted within the universe that day. For two straight weeks, Kun goes about his business as if Dejun isn't even there. Neutral 'good mornings' and 'excuse mes' instead of jabs, and avoidance to meet Dejun's gaze. So fucking strange. Dejun feels as if he's been conditioned to expect Kun's attention, and now that he's finally been left alone, his presence in the office feels a bit off. Lacking.

One afternoon, at lunch break, he sits with Yangyang in the lounge, both of their salads turned and ready to go, when Kun comes in. He takes one look at their table and smiles cordially.

"Hey, Kun, are you eating in?" Yangyang asks, waving his fork. A cheese flake lands on the surface of the table. "Sit with us!"

So _strange_ , but Dejun finds himself expectant of an answer. He watches as Kun picks his lunch box from the fridge and places it in the microwave. He's wearing a nice orange shirt today. Looks good. He always does, infuriatingly so.

"Uh, thanks!" Kun says, intent on observing his lunch box spin inside the microwave until it beeps. He's quick to pick it up. "I'm gonna go eat out on the rooftop today. It's a nice day."

He leaves, not sparing Dejun a single glance.

Something turns in his stomach, definitely not the salad, and Dejun is _bothered_.

"Hey, did y'all fight or something?" Yangyang questions. "I haven't seen you together in a while."

The implication that Dejun and Kun spent any time together in the office isn't aggravating enough to rattle him -- in fact, Dejun doesn't mind it.

Still, he says, "When were we even together?"

Yangyang frowns. "You always sit together during meetings and keep passing notes back and forth. You have lunch together? And go on visits to clients together too?"

Technically, management (that's Ten) has asked them to handle accounts together on occasion and Dejun has always felt personally victimized since it was clear that Ten was doing it 'cause he feared Dejun wouldn't be able to close the deal on his own. He wasn't going on car trips with Kun on his own accord. Besides, he was oftentimes asking Kun to stop passing him notes during meetings. And they haven't really eaten together in ages! There was an occasion last month in which Kun forgot his lunch at home and ordered in, forcing Dejun to put up with his company for a couple of tough minutes there... But they don't really eat together. That much?

"He hates me," Dejun says as if that's self-explanatory and will cease Yangyang's inquiries for good.

It doesn't really work, as Yangyang looks downright offended. "What?"

"He keeps making fun of me." Dejun's voice is small, he pokes at his salad.

"I thought that was playful banter," Yangyang frowns. "Aren't you reading too much into it?"

And for the first time, Dejun second-guesses his assumptions.

Maybe it really is Dejun's fault. He's grown up used to hearing the sound of people's laughter directed at him. In high school, they laughed 'cause his face was pimpy and his eyebrows too bushy. He was too enthusiastic about the things he loved, and obviously, that made him weird. Logically, Kun's remarks had to have the same finality as those Dejun used to get in high school. To be mean and hurtful.

As another week goes by, Dejun observes how helpful Kun acts towards his colleagues, and how fragrant his homemade bread is. His face is so smooth, and his smile so nice. But those were things Dejun was already aware of. Was he really not knowing of the true nature of Kun's behavior?

Eventually, he thinks back to Sooyoung's words the last time he actually spoke to Kun. Was she right? Should Dejun have apologized? He ponders. Kun brings Ten a slice of homemade bread. Dejun contemplates. Kun laughs at yet another one of Heechul's tasteless jokes. Dejun thinks harder than he's ever thought. Kun grins and waves at Sicheng, doesn't even look in Dejun's general direction.

"That's it!" he slams his hands on his desk and springs to his feet, unable to contain the tentacle of feelings inside of him. He's aware of the looks his exclamation gets him, but couldn't care any less.

Sicheng gawks at him. "Are you okay?"

Dejun would have answered (Sicheng is a sweetheart) if he weren't watching Kun's retreating back as if he were prey, and Dejun couldn't afford to lose the kill. Kun goes into the lounge, and Dejun stalks.

Kun is mindlessly checking the back of a pack of cookies when Dejun comes in, closing the door and leaning back onto it. It is noisy enough to make Kun raise his head and acknowledge Dejun's presence. His eyebrows arch and his eyes widen a little bit.

None of them speak for a moment, and Dejun's heart is beating so loudly he's almost positive Sicheng back at their desk can hear it.

"What's up with you?" He asks.

Kun's eyebrows (his perfectly sculpted eyebrows) furrow. "I'm about to eat a cookie."

Dejun shakes his head, impatient. "You. You're acting weird."

There's a pause, and Kun shifts, turning to fully face Dejun. There's a minute change in his expression; interest replaced by something Dejun can't really identify yet.

"How so?"

"You don't speak."

"I'm pretty sure I speak."

"Not to me. You don't... Talk."

It's then that Dejun understands what the new colors on Kun's face are. Amusement. The slightest amount, almost imperceptible. Dejun is able to catch it, though, thanks to the countless hours he's dedicated to studying Kun's face from every angle possible. It is a really nice face.

The pack of cookies is placed on the counter, next to the microwave, and Kun thrusts both his hands into his pockets. He doesn't comment on Dejun's inaptitude at discourse. As a matter-of-fact, Kun doesn't comment on anything. He simply doesn't talk, which is funny considering Dejun came in here with the sole purpose of confronting him on his lack of words. Towards Dejun.

"See! That's what I meant!" With an accusing finger jabbed towards Kun, Dejun claims: "You've been going around the office without directing me the word! I'll have you know that's entirely counter-productive and as much as you might--"

"I was giving you space, that's all." Comes the simple excuse. Dejun watches him for a bit, looks as Kun takes a step closer. "You seemed like you were upset, so I waited out until it was okay again."

"What was okay?" Dejun asks.

"Us," Kun shrugs, taking another step closer. He probably thinks Dejun isn't aware of the diminishing distance between them, but he _is_. "Our thing."

He's even afraid to ask. "What is our _thing_?"

"I tease, you curse. I keep teasing, and you blush." Another step closer.

It's hot from his neck up; his whole face is on fire. Stubborn, Dejun retorts, "I-I don't blush."

Kun laughs, low, not really mocking. It's how Kun always laughs, but for some twisted reason, it doesn't really sound scornful now. He says, "You do. It's cute."

Oh God, Kun is praising him. And why does Dejun like it so much?

"I didn't know."

"That you're cute? I should tell you more often, then."

He meant the flush. He didn't know he flushed whenever Kun... Teased him. Something flutters in Dejun's stomach; it feels odd, but not in a bad way. Kun is still looking at him, several steps closer than when Dejun barged in, and his gaze keeps lowering, then coming back up to Dejun's eyes.

He should say something. Dejun should say something. Kun is just gazing at him in silence, clearly waiting for a comeback to his line, and Dejun doesn't have anything to offer. He's literally been rendered speechless.

A push against Dejun's back followed by a timid 'hello?' being spoken on the other side of the door to remind them that they are monopolizing the access to the lounge and that Dejun is effectively blocking the door. He jumps away from it as if burnt, straight into Kun's personal space (of course). Kun's hands wrap around Dejun's arms, clearly by instinct, but it's still too much to handle, so Dejun jumps for the second time in a span of two seconds, but this time away from Kun.

When Yeri, the receptionist, comes in, she looks between the both of them suspiciously but doesn't say anything.

"I better go," Dejun announces in a haste, getting the fuck out of the lounge faster than he thought he could.

Later that afternoon during their weekly meeting, Dejun passes Kun a furtive note. It says 'Sorry'. Kun just smiles as he reads, and nods.

Interacting with Kun keeps being stressful, but for entirely different reasons now.

He _flirts_ , which should be inappropriate considering they're in their place of work and it's likely that there are rules forbidding these kinds of exchanges between workmates.

None of that stops Kun:

At the elevator in the lobby when Dejun is the last in line to get in: "Morning, Xiao. Late again. Want me to carry you up princess style?"

Looking smug after closing a particularly gruesome deal: "See that, Xiao? Don't you wish you could do it like me?"

Passing Dejun a note during a sales meeting: _"Too hard to keep your eyes on the presentation? I wonder what kind of stuff manages to keep you focused."_

And straight-up telling Dejun he looks good: "That hairstyle looks nice."

And the most revealing thing about the entire situation is that Dejun doesn't think Kun has been acting any differently. He's exactly the way he's always been. So it means that he's always been flirting and Dejun was just dumb as rocks. This leads them to yet another conundrum: Dejun is horny. Not as a personality trait, but as the moment he's currently living. It's just been too long since he last fooled around with someone, and Kun presenting as an option opens up a world of possibilities.

His horniness and Qian Kun had never been directly related, but things really seem to be on a path to change, Dejun reckons as he watches Kun drink from his water bottle, enthralled by the way Kun's throat bobs with each gulp, the sheer sharpness of his jaw. Dejun's hold on the telephone slackens, and it's only when it slips his hand and clatters down on his desk that he realizes his client, lovely Mrs. Choi, is still on the line. Dejun hurries to press the phone back against his ear, sighing in relief as Mrs. Choi rambles about her grandchildren.

"Really? Ah ha ha," he says absent-mindedly, eyes back to searching what he was previously watching. Sadly, Kun is nowhere to be seen, likely back to his desk outside of Dejun's field of vision.

Fortunately, Kun is forced to circulate around Dejun's side of the office several times a day due to both Ten and Xuxi, with whom he constantly needs to discuss matters of their joint deal, inhabiting that area. Thus, Dejun gets first row seats to the spectacle that's Qian Kun.

It all escalates to a boiling point on a Thursday evening, coincidentally the same day Dejun understands that he does, in fact, blush.

It's Ten's birthday, meaning an office-wide holiday of sorts since Ten deems himself too important and worthy of halting all work functions in order to celebrate his existence. At times like these, Dejun has to agree with him. There's a spreadsheet containing rows and more rows of clients to whom he's supposed to call, and honestly, he'd much rather stand in this backyard and watch Sicheng and Yangyang fight each other in a kiddie pool filled with red gelatin. He doesn't even know whose house this is, or if this pool party is in any way appropriate as a work-related event, but he feels good. Much better since Kun shows up in a blue tank and shorts.

This is the thing about Dejun's horniness: it's not shy, making itself known at any time of the day, and recently, especially in Kun's presence. Kun's bare arms, not too buff yet muscular enough to give it texture, making Dejun itch to feel. His hair, down and casual but good enough that Dejun just _knows_ running fingers through those locks would feel soothing. His abs, too. _Fucking_ God, his abs, only visible for a brief moment when Kun lifts the hem of his tank to wipe at his face, yet sufficiently seductive as it succeeds in making Dejun choke on his drink (a yellow concoction that Ten named 'the fruitless punch'. Dejun is afraid to question what's in it if not fruit).

"Looks like someone is alive and breathing," Sooyoung says, a smirk to her face and wiggling eyebrows as she glances between Kun and Dejun.

"Where the hell did you come from, woman?" Dejun questions, 'cause this sort of ability shouldn't be overlooked, really, it's scary.

"My feet are light like a vampire's." Sooyoung shrugs. "I'm glad to know your eyes are finally open."

"What does that even mean?"

In lieu of an answer, Sooyoung blows him a kiss, pointing her chin in Kun's direction before wishing a merry "Have fun, baby," and sauntering away. Dejun only watches her for a second, eyes pulled by the feeling of someone approaching.

It's Kun. And he's got sunglasses now (perfect).

"Looking a bit lost, Xiao," he says. "Were you waiting for someone?"

The innuendo is loud even for someone so blatantly oblivious as Dejun. Trying his best to seem cool and unaffected, Dejun sips his drink and looks towards the kiddie pool now occupied by Yeri and Ten himself.

"I wasn't waiting for you if that's what you're implying."

Kun chuckles, pushing his sunglasses up to rest on his head. "Wasn't implying anything." He looks around, assessing the domain. "So what's going on around here?"

"Fuck if I know. It's... Ten's birthday."

Nodding, Kun repeats, "Ten's birthday," as if that's a good explanation. They stand in silence for a couple of minutes, then, Kun says, "You look good." After giving Dejun a serious-to-god once over, Kun bites on his lower lip.

"Thanks," Dejun, entirely aware of the blush on his cheeks, fights back the need to avert his eyes. "You too."

Kun smiles, holding his gaze for a while. The air around them feels heavy, charged with an electric kind of something, threatening to buzz Dejun's fingers fried if he stretches his hands too far. It feels tentative and dangerous, and still, Dejun doesn't think he'd mind a little shock if it meant he'd get his hands on Kun.

The moment comes to an end like a soap bubble popping to non-existence after a few minutes of blissful float. Kun says, "I should say hi to the birthday guy."

Dejun can only nod and look as Kun meets Ten, greets him enthusiastically, then is ultimately pulled into the jelly pool. The audience hoots, some of them demand that he takes his shirt off (understandable). As Kun reemerges, wet and dripping red jelly, Dejun's stomach clenches, and he decides he can't leave this fucking clowntown of a party without making out with Qian Kun.

Dejun doesn't really have a plan. His plan consists of acting sexy until Kun realizes what he wants and comes to get him. Literally speaking. So he strips from his t-shirt and joins some of his colleagues at the pool, using all of his swimming knowledge to perform impressive tricks such as freestyle stroking from one side to the other and not drowning (Dejun thinks he deserves bonus points for that one)! He makes sure to resurface like he's in a tv commercial, hair whipping water back, and looks around to see if his target has perceived him.

Much to his surprise, Kun appears right next to him in the pool, sending waves towards Dejun as he advances, looking so much more commercial-like than Dejun with his wet hair pushed back and water droplets running down his chest, and sun rays shining on his fucking eyelashes. He's too fucking gorgeous, Dejun feels like his breath has been taken away a thousand times ever since Kun arrived.

"I saw you almost drown earlier, figured you could use a little help," Kun says, playfully sending a spritz of water in Dejun's direction.

Genuinely insulted, Dejun gasps, sending a spritz back. "Excuse you, I was swimming."

"That was anything but swimming." Kun snorts and nears, close enough to wrap his hands around Dejun's wrists. "Want me to teach you?"

The hands-on-wrists thing doesn't seem too necessary from Dejun's objective point-of-view. The horny demon inside of him revels in it.

"Will you stop pimping yourself to me, please?" Dejun pushes at him, half-heartedly attempting to free himself from Kun's hold, but it only works to bring them closer.

"Pimping myself?" Kun gasps theatrically, squinting at him. His hands sneak to Dejun's hips -- another delightfully unnecessary move. "I was just trying to be helpful."

Dejun's heart is beating too fast, too loud. On any other occasion, he'd be running in the opposite direction, afraid to dive head-first in whatever this is. Kun's hands climb to his waist, squeezing, and the shiver than runs down Dejun's spine is a clear indication that he's not going anywhere, Kun's presence rooting him to the spot.

With a hand over Kun's chest and his voice low, Dejun says, "I have a feeling the kind of help you were offering is against the code of conduct, Qian."

It's like he can _see_ the moment the cogs in Kun's brain turn. Like a switch has been turned on; a green light. The air expands into a live current, coursing through the spaces between them, and Kun exhales.

He says, resolute: "I couldn't give a damn about the code of conduct."

That's how Dejun finds himself in a powder room, backed roughly against the wall as Kun nibbles on his neck. They're both wet and still, the air feels hot, their breaths mixing with the dusty quality of oxygen that was trapped inside this room for god knows how long. It's all happening too fast, Kun's hands on his damp shorts, tongue on Dejun's throat. It's been so long since the last time he's been touched like this that Dejun is pretty sure he's forgotten how it feels. The mere brush of Kun's hands over his clothed dick pulls a long moan out of him, his fingers digging into Kun's shoulders, the smell of chlorine permeating the room.

Kun noses up to his cheek, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the corner of Dejun's mouth. "You gotta be quiet, Jun."

Perhaps it's Kun calling him 'Jun', or maybe it's the soft feel of Kun's lips claiming his own, his hand pushing against Dejun's abdomen sliding to feel up his chest, but Dejun doesn't think he's ever been this turned on.

"It feels good," he says weakly, head tilting back as Kun licks down to his collarbones.

"I know, but if they find us we'll be in a lot of trouble."

Holding back is such an alien concept to him right now. Dejun's done a lot of holding back, and he's _horny_. Kun is right here, hands playing with Dejun's dick, and he's ready for the teasing to be OVER. He urges, knowing how pathetic he sounds, but unable to care about anything other than his own pleasure and Qian Kun delivering it to him: "Please, touch me, please, please, please--"

Kun's hand makes it past Dejun's waistband, tugging it down just enough to free his poor, hard cock from its constraints. The cool air is like a blessing, and followed by Kun's hands wrapping around him, Dejun feels like he's about to meet his maker. He's been leaking at the tip ever since they exited the pool. Kun thumbs at the head of Dejun's dick, then gently presses his palm over it, easing it down and conveniently spreading precome all over his length as he goes. Then, he twists his wrist, and Dejun knocks his head against the wall, jaw slack and eyes tightly shut with how good Kun's hand feels.

He tries to touch back, trembly hands fumbling to reach the bulge straining Kun's shorts, but instead, he gets both hands locked in the grip of Kun's other hand. Before Dejun even has the chance to ask, Kun pins his wrists above his head on the wall, leveling Dejun with the kind of stare that would land him pregnant if it was possible.

"Needy baby," Kun says smoothly, lazily stroking Dejun's dick while his mouth pecks repeatedly at Dejun's open mouth. "I'll take your edge off, don't worry. After, I'm bringing you home with me..." He leans in, nipping at Dejun's ear, whispering, "then I'm fucking you 'till my name is the only thing left in your mind. How does that sound?"

The words reverberate inside his head, every single inch of Dejun's skin sensitive like live wire. Dejun nods dumbly, and thrusts into Kun's hand, whining when the friction on his dick halts. Kun gives him another sweet kiss, and says, "Come on, Jun. Finish what you started." So Dejun does, bucking his hips on a frantic rhythm, so freaking desperate that the sweat on his skin brings his shorts down, pooling at his feet, and knowing that he's now completely naked in a stranger's house, fucking himself into Kun's hand makes it that much hotter.

Kun's eyes are on his face the entire time, dazed, a glint of awe in his gaze as Dejun writhes and moans, sweat trickling down his neck and chest. A bead rolls through his hard nipple, and just that tiny bead of sweat is too much. He comes with a muffled moan, Kun's hand releasing his wrists in order to clamp over Dejun's mouth. Dejun feels his whole body going slack, he guesses Kun can sense it too. His relatively clean hand lowers to rest over Dejun's belly, thumb caressing above his belly button before the whole arm wraps securely around Dejun.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" Kun mumbles, pushing his nose into Dejun's cheek, biting on his jaw. Kun's clothed erection presses into Dejun's thigh, and he pushes just a bit. "So beautiful."

Dejun hums pleasingly, taking a deep breath and getting a mixed whiff of sex and pool water. He loosely hooks his arms around Kun's neck, wishing he had enough energy to pull him in for a kiss. Luckily, Kun wants the same thing, leaning for a deep, thorough kiss that has Dejun's stomach fluttering nicely.

"Should we sneak out the front door?" Kun asks once they part.

"Will you bring me home?" Dejun asks just for good measure.

"Not if you don't want me to."

"I want to," he assures, managing to tighten his hold around Kun's neck. "Will you let me touch you this time?"

Chuckling, Kun says, "Sure. Might even teach you a thing or two."

Dejun could kick him between the legs if he wanted to. He really could. Kun is just fortunate Dejun's got a lot planned for him (and his dick).

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me some kudos and comments, please, those mean a lot. But also, be kind. 🥰  
> Find me at @[twitter](http://twitter.com/maplemooncake)


End file.
